


all my scars are open

by ohprongs



Series: canon(ish) fics [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2x04 Day of Wrath spoilers, 2x05 Dust and Shadows spoilers, Canon Compliant, Discussion of Death, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Unresolved Ending, alec has a competency kink and who can blame him, but if you haven't seen Malec (2016) what are you even doing in the tag, discussion of fantasy racism, do the s2 showrunners/writers even remember ragnor ever existed lmao, i would say 1x12 spoilers, kind of angsty towards the end whoops, minor reference to gory injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10066040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohprongs/pseuds/ohprongs
Summary: “Have you ever killed someone?” Alec asks. His voice is gravelly. “Someone innocent?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> for my tumblr anon, who requested malec + hurt/comfort. missing scene post 2x05, pre 2x06.
> 
> title from _impossible_ by shontelle

The night is a milky twilight over the city skyline. Magnus shifts slightly on the couch on the balcony, adjusting one of the cushions behind him to find a more comfortable position. The cat on his lap - one of his favourites, a black and brown tabby - mewls a little in protest, but Magnus coos and resumes petting her with one hand. He turns the page of the old tome he has floating in front of him with the other. His Basque is a little rusty, but it makes for light enough reading of an evening.

He’s not surprised when he feels the gentle pulse of magic that means someone’s come through his wards, but he is surprised by the soft knock at the door, at least if it’s who he thinks it is. Alec mostly lets himself in - something that irritates Magnus to know end when the other Shadowhunters do it, but who knew he had a soft spot for Alec?

Magnus snaps his fingers and the book falls gracefully to the glass table at the side of the couch, bookmark in place. He gently sets the tabby cat down, then pads through his loft to the front door.

Alec has his eyes closed when Magnus opens the door, his fingers on one hand rubbing back and forth against his thumb. He’s still dressed in white, the traditional Shadowhunter garb for a funeral. The fact that he didn’t even stop to get changed after leaving the Institute has Magnus a little concerned.

“How was it?” he asks, stepping aside to let Alec in. 

Alec half-shrugs but doesn’t answer. Magnus gestures to the couch and Alec nods, stopping first to slip out of his suit jacket. He sinks into the couch with a quiet noise, turning sideways so he can lean into the back cushions. 

Magnus busies himself with tidying his drinks table, having seen the redness of Alec’s eyes and wanting to allow him a moment of privacy.

“Have you ever killed someone?” Alec asks. His voice is gravelly. “Someone innocent?”

Magnus wants to smile wryly. He knows what Alec means, but too many faces float in front of his mind before he can stop them. Ragnor, who he’d killed by not being quick enough. His mother, who he’d killed by just existing.

He pushes them away with an exhale and makes his way over to the couch. He sits beside Alec, but leaves a small gap between them.

“For a start, Jocelyn wasn’t innocent,” he says. Alec just looks at him. “I’m not saying she deserved to die - far from it. But she was a part of the Circle. She’d done some terrible things, and she knew that.” Magnus looks straight at Alec. “Regardless,  _you_  didn’t kill her. Whoever she was, whatever she’d done, her death was not your fault. Valentine sent the demon and the demon possessed you. That wasn’t you, Alec.”

“It was my body,” Alec says. He sucks in a breath, his eyes bright. “It was my hand, you didn’t see it, you didn’t see - her blood under my nails and it won’t come off no matter how much I wash my hands -” his fingers are jumping now, his breathing erratic. “Magnus, I reached into her chest and ripped her heart out.”

He says it with such finality, looking at Magnus as if he expects him to run. To be told he’s a murderer, or a monster.

“I know,” Magnus says. "I’ve seen those kind of demons before.” He nods down at Alec’s hand. “May I?” he asks gently.

Alec blinks at him, looking a little confused, but holds his hand out anyway. He lifts it about level with Magnus’ chest, and it dawns on Magnus that Alec’s expecting him to do some kind of magic on it. He smiles softly and simply entwines Alec’s fingers with his own, lowering them so they rest on Magnus’ thigh. 

Alec drops his gaze to their hands and then looks back at Magnus. His shoulders sag and somehow Magnus knows what’s going to happen before it does. He slips his hand from Alec’s and opens his arms, and Alec collapses against him. His fingers clutch at the back of Magnus’ shirt and his tears are warm on Magnus’ neck as he cries. 

Magnus just pets softly at Alec’s hair and whispers soothing words. At some point, the words dissolve into a hum, the tune of a lullaby Magnus' mother used to sing to him escaping his lips.

After a while Alec’s breathing evens out a little and he shifts in Magnus’ hold, just resting his head against Magnus’ shoulder. His fingers trail against Magnus’ back.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Magnus smiles and keeps stroking Alec’s hair. “Nothing a little magic can’t fix,” he says, “and luckily, I’m not short of that.”

Alec hums, sounding contemplative, and when he turns his head his lips press against Magnus’ skin. They’ve sort of half-fallen against each other, supported by the back of the couch.

“Is this okay?” Magnus asks.

Alec nods against him. “Am I squashing you?”

“I’m not a delicate flower, Alexander,” Magnus says with a smile.

“No, I - I noticed,” Alec says, and, well,  _that’s_  something to think about.

“You did?” Magnus teases.

“I did,” Alec confirms, and it seems that’s all he wants to say on the matter for now, so Magnus doesn’t push. He himself might share his attraction openly and unabashedly, but he’s reminded very suddenly that - despite everything they’ve been through - he and Alec still haven’t had that first date yet.

“Can I ask you something?” Alec says, after they’ve been quiet for a while. Magnus nods. “What are warlock funerals like?”

Magnus tenses momentarily and then forces himself to relax. He doesn’t answer for a moment. “Not like Shadowhunter funerals,” he offers finally.

Alec props himself up on one elbow, hovering over Magnus. Magnus’ breath catches at their proximity and he feels warm from Alec’s closeness, even though the topic of conversation is far from easy. 

“You've been to a Shadowhunter funeral, then?” Alec asks. It’s obvious he’s been crying but he seems more at ease now; the set of his shoulders is looser and his face is alight with curiosity.

Magnus only raises an eyebrow. “I think you can probably work the answer to that out yourself,” he says. “Luke and Simon were there tonight, were they?”

Alec opens his mouth and then squints. “That’s - the ban on the Institute has only been in place for a couple of weeks.”

“Ah, yes,” Magnus says, "I’d forgotten that The Clave only started disliking Downworlders when Victor Aldertree came to New York."

Alec blinks once, then his lips curve up a little. He seems amused by Magnus’ sarcasm but also a little embarrassed.

“You’re right,” he says. “It was a stupid question, I’m sorry.” He licks his lips. “Uh, how do you know so much about Shadowhunter funerals?"

Magnus’ gaze stops on the deflect rune crawling up Alec’s neck. 

“I have to know about Shadowhunters to survive,” he says. It’s clearly not the answer Alec is expecting - his eyebrows lift and then knit together, and his gaze drops to Magnus’ chest. He’s quiet, and then he nods. 

Magnus clears his throat. “I’ve been friends with Shadowhunters before,” he continues, his voice lighter, “so I know some things from them.”

“Do I know them?” Alec asks.

Magnus can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I doubt that. Maybe your great-great-great grandparents did.”

Alec laughs and relaxes against Magnus’ chest again. “Is that weird for you? Knowing families for - literally generations?”

Magnus hums. “It gives you a sense of perspective, I suppose,” he says. “You’re my favourite Lightwood by far.”

“Don’t tell Izzy,” is all Alec says, but it’s clear from his voice he’s pleased with the assessment.

Magnus smiles. “How’s she holding up?”

“She’s fine physically,” Alec says. “Her shoulder’s healing. I’m not sure if - I don’t know how much she remembers. About - being possessed."

“Do you blame her for being possessed?” Magnus asks, aiming for idle. “Do you think it’s her fault?”

“What?” Alec asks immediately, tone sharp. “Of course not!”

Magnus waits a beat, to see if Alec gets it. The way Alec slumps against him and makes a frustrated noise makes him think that maybe he does.

“You should treat yourself with the same kindness you grant others, Alexander,” Magnus says, leaning his cheek to Alec’s head.

“Are you always this wise?” Alec asks, and Magnus just laughs. 

He asks Alec if he’s eaten, and when Alec shakes his head, Magnus pushes them both up from the couch and insists on making some food. Alec follows Magnus with a little smile, and when Magnus turns around to face him again, he notices Alec has undone another of his top buttons. Magnus files that away to think on later.

“Brie or camembert?” Magnus asks, holding up the two cheeses. 

Alec pulls a face that Magnus takes to mean,  _whatever you want,_ so Magnus sets about making a board with fresh baguettes, grapes and cheese for them to pick at.

“You’re very Tony Manero, you know,” he tells Alec, gesturing towards Alec’s outfit with his cheese knife. Alec just shrugs, smiling, watching Magnus. “ _Saturday Night Fever_ , Alexander,” Magnus huffs. “I don’t know why I bother.”

Alec is quiet for a little while as he watches Magnus bustle about the kitchen. “You take care of people, don’t you?” he observes, and for some reason Magnus feels the need to deflect. It scares him how easily Alec sees him.

“All for a price,” he says, spinning on his heel with flair. But Alec doesn’t laugh like Magnus wants him to; he just keeps watching him levelly, taking everything in.

“Thank you,” he says. He comes to stand at the counter and places his hand over Magnus’, stilling the knife blade against food. “Thank you for everything you do. People probably don’t say that enough.”

His eyes are warm and fond as they drink Magnus in, and his gaze slips down to Magnus’ lips. Magnus knows that Alec wants to kiss him, and god, does he want to kiss Alec. Alec stays close to him for a moment too long and then he looks away, breaking the spell, and Magnus can breathe again.

“We should, uh.” Alec picks up the cheese knife and twirls it between his fingers. “We could watch that movie, if you wanted. Not now. But - I’ve been told I owe you a date.”

It takes all of Magnus’ restraint not to thread his fingers through Alec’s hair and pull him in for a kiss in that moment, so he bites down on an elated grin and tries not to sound overly enthusiastic when he says, “I’d like that.”

Alec himself smiles, and it strikes Magnus that the two of them are a little ridiculous, each trying to hide how happy the other makes them. But standing in the kitchen, Alec bathed in soft gold light, Magnus knows this is the start of something good, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

While they eat, Alec tells him a story about the time he went to the Paris Institute with his parents, and from there it’s a short leap for Magnus to regale him with tales of his own Parisian shenanigans.

“You speak French?” Alec asks, a strange note colouring his voice.

Magnus nods. “I forget exactly how many languages I know,” he says truthfully. “Of course, some of them have died out now. But I think at the last count it was around twenty.”

Alec swallows. “Which ones?” he asks, playing with the bread crumbs on his plate. A light pink has settled over his cheeks and Magnus doesn’t quite know what to make of that, although he might have an idea.

“French, as I said. My mother tongue is most closely related to modern-day Indonesian. I also speak Malay, Mandarin and Cantonese, Spanish, Basque, Dutch. Afrikaans is actually very similar, so I picked that up a little in my time in South Africa. Yoruba, Igbo, Braj Bhasha, a little Standard Arabic. What else? Oh, I can read Sanskrit - along with Latin and Ancient Greek, but no one really uses those two any more. Then there’s Chthonian and a couple of other demonic languages.” Magnus shrugs. “And English, of course.”

“That’s -” Alec clears his throat. “Wow.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says graciously. “I could never get my head around Gaelic, though, and of course, Ragnor always lords that over me.” Magnus falls silent, words catching up with him. He shakes his head. “Have you finished eating?”

Alec ignores this and Magnus almost wishes he wouldn’t. “Is that - is he why you didn’t really answer before? About warlock funerals?” He rolls a grape between his finger and thumb. “I realised that, uh, with everything that’s going on, with the wedding, and then Jace and Valentine, I never...I should have asked. I should have made sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Magnus says, flimsy at best, and it’s clear that Alec’s used the lie enough himself that he doesn’t buy it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Alec says, dropping his gaze. “I just want you to know that you can. If you do want to. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person who actually listens to me, so I want to be that for you. Not the only person, obviously, because I know you have friends, but - sorry. I’m not.” He finally lifts his gaze to Magnus’ eye.

Magnus reaches across the counter and takes Alec’s hand in his, and he’s about to speak when Alec knocks the breath of out him.

“I’m not very good at this, but I want to be.”

Magnus’ throat is suddenly thick and he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking. “Thank you,” he says. “But Ragnor and I, it’s a very long story, and if you need to be getting back to the Institute…”

“I want to stay,” Alec says at once, and he sighs. “I mean, I would  _like_  to be here with you, if that’s okay.”

Magnus wonders quietly if Alexander Lightwood will ever know the true extent of what he does to him. How he knocks Magnus' world off-balance and sets it spinning again. How he pours kindness and care into the cracks of a broken heart. How he makes Magnus believe in love again.

Alec seems to realise that Magnus is a little overwhelmed and sets about clearing their plates and putting away any leftover food. When he’s finished, he extends his hand to Magnus, who lets himself be pulled up from the counter stool and led into the lounge. Alec smiles at him, a private, slow smile. His eyes shine and Magnus lets go of any possibility of backing out now when it comes to the boy.

Alec perches on the edge of the couch, seeming unsure for the first time. Magnus takes a seat next to him and tucks his feet up on the couch. When his gaze swivels to Alec, he finds himself being watched.

“What?” he asks, and Alec laughs a little.

“Sorry. You said it was a story so I was waiting for you to tell it,” says Alec.

“I see,” Magnus says, smiling. So he does, starting at the beginning. How he’d been lost as a boy, trying to figure out the Downworld on his own, and they’d met by chance when Magnus was just approaching his first century, Ragnor his second. “Older, never wiser,” Magnus smiles, his eyes wet. 

He tells Alec about how Ragnor had grudgingly taken him under his wing, how he’d introduced him to Catarina, his second best friend. How the two of them, and then the three of them, had travelled the world together, exploring far-flung places with open eyes and minds and hearts. How Ragnor had always lamented about it, but always been there to help Magnus to piece together his inevitably broken heart.

“He was very prickly,” Magnus laughs. “He stopped responding to my fire messages for a while before I went to see him with Clary and your brother, but as soon as we saw each other again it was…like nothing had changed. No matter the distance, no matter the time, just my closest friend. When you find people like that, you don’t ever let them go.”

He sniffs and Alec pulls him in close, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“Ragnor knew me better than anyone, and he’s gone.” Magnus just stops himself from saying,  _because that’s what people do when they get to know me. They leave._  “If I ever meet Valentine again…” Magnus smiles. “Hellfire will rain down.”

“I think there’s a queue for that,” Alec says after a moment.

Magnus laughs despite himself. “I suppose so. I’ll hold him down while Luke finishes him off, then.”

It’s a while before either of them speak again, and it’s Alec who finally breaks the silence.

“You’ve lost so many people, Magnus, and I can’t ever begin to understand that. But we keep the people we love in our hearts, and you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know. Ragnor won’t ever be truly gone, because he’ll be with you.” He lifts his hand and rests it gently over the left side of Magnus’ chest. “In here.”

Magnus inhales slowly and wraps his arms around Alec, tugging them close together, and lets himself be sheltered by Alec’s embrace. How can he explain that he’d told himself that, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago, yet people he’d known as a boy  _are_  truly gone, even though he’s still here? His memory fails him and people leave him again and again and again.

Magnus buries his face in Alec’s hair. 

Alec makes a soft sound. “I’m here,” he says, and Magnus knows it’s not going to be forever, but he hopes to god that it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> as always im on [tumblr](http://lightwoodlesbians.tumblr.com)


End file.
